


Web of Lies

by TheGiantSquid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Dark, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-15
Updated: 2007-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-26 07:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGiantSquid/pseuds/TheGiantSquid
Summary: “Oh, what tangled webs we weave, when first we practice to deceive.” ~Sir Walter Scott





	Web of Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for [](http://karasu-hime.livejournal.com/profile)[**karasu_hime**](http://karasu-hime.livejournal.com/) in the [](http://community.livejournal.com/wizard_love/profile)[**wizard_love**](http://community.livejournal.com/wizard_love/) Valentine fic and art exchange. Major thanks to [](http://jamimegan.livejournal.com/profile)[**jamimegan**](http://jamimegan.livejournal.com/) for beta’ing this for me, and for [](http://abigail89.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://abigail89.livejournal.com/)**abigail89** ’s never-ending encouragement and support. I love you both *hugs*  


* * *

* * *

She wasn’t surprised, really, when Kingsley approached her about the mission. Dumbledore was dead, his murderer the Order’s only Death Eater spy, and Remus had been exposed that fateful night amongst the werewolves. They had no one on the inside. She was their last, desperate hope.

She could change her appearance, her body, even her mind-set. She could fight, both physically and mentally. She was strong, a descendent of a long, pure-blooded line. And most importantly, she earned an O in N.E.W.T. Potions under the study the very man she was going to spy on.

Tonks sat quietly at the table in the middle of the kitchen of Grimmauld Place as people shouted over one another. Kingsley was engaged in a heated debate with Mad-Eye, while Remus sat still and silent, watching the two men with an intensity that made Tonks shiver. She knew that look—Remus was angry. In the corner, Bill was arguing loudly with Harry, the scars of his face made more grotesque by the harsh light of the firelight.

On the other side of the room, Molly was red-faced as she and Fleur attempted not to hex each other’s heads off, disagreeing rather forcefully about the dinner menu. And across from her, Arthur sat and stared at the worn table, harsh lines etched into his normally cheerful face. He would not meet her gaze.

For several more minutes, the arguments continued, and Tonks observed every one. It was what she’d been trained to do, and it would do best to remember these people before she went to the Death Eaters.

“SHE’S NOT READY!” exploded Mad-Eye, and all heads turned abruptly towards him and the arguing ceased. Kingsley frowned and cut his eyes briefly to Tonks.

“She’s the only one who could do it,” he replied with forced calm. Mad-Eye growled, the sound truly frightening, but Kingsley did not back down.

“Snape’ll know in a second who she is,” Harry cut in. Tonks noted how much older Harry’s eyes looked. Dumbledore’s death had a way of aging everyone, she had noticed. He rounded on Tonks and asked, “Do you even have any training in Occlumency?”

It was funny how much Tonks appreciated finally being asked for her opinion in the matter. They had been arguing over her decision to infiltrate for the past twenty minutes, but no one had actually bothered to discuss it with her. Tonks met Harry’s weary eyes and said, “All Aurors are trained for that, yes.” She paused, glancing at Kingsley, then Mad-Eye, before adding, “Besides which, if my Morphing is utterly complete, I can even begin to think of myself as Viola. He won’t know. I’m confident in that.”

Harry pursed his lips, hands clenched in the pockets of his jeans, but nodded. She tore her eyes away from his and she stared down at the forgotten tea cup in her hands.

“Tonks,” came Remus’s rough voice. “Kingsley mentioned earlier that you have completed the final stages of Viola Doppio’s appearance. It might help some of the other members to see how different you will be when you’re underground.”

Without answering, Tonks stood and backed away from the table. She’d never had a problem Morphing in front of others, but for some reason, this time seemed so much more intimate. She wasn’t just changing a nose or her hair. She was changing everything about herself; she was dying, and Viola Doppio was being born.

Always easiest to do was the hair and eye color. Dark brown hair to match dark brown eyes. Pretty, but rather unremarkable. It wouldn’t do to stand out or be remembered. Gradually, skin turned from pale and pasty to olive and healthy. Her nose was longer, lips thicker, teeth whiter, eyes rounder. Then her limbs began to lengthen, and her body grew away from the ground. She gave herself a fuller figure, bigger breasts, a plumper stomach and arse. The age came last: subtle lines around her eyes and mouth. Ten years.

When the transformation was complete, she opened her eyes and met the stares of half the Order.

“Everyone,” said Kingsley in an odd tone, “this is Viola Doppio. Pureblood, widow, Muggle-hater, Death Eater, and our new hope.”

* * *

The hardest part about her new appearance was, whilst trying to exude an air of superiority, maturity, and elegance, Tonks still had the tendency to trip over invisible objects. Twice she had stumbled forward as she and Kingsley walked down Diagon Alley towards Knockturn Alley, their faces obscured by their cloak hoods and the drizzling rain.

Diagon was nearly deserted. It was early Saturday night, and before the war and Voldemort and death there would have been hundreds of witches and wizards busying themselves in the numerous stores and restaurants that lined the street. But no longer. In the short time since Dumbledore’s murder at the hands of a traitor, nearly fifty innocents had been killed by the Death Eaters. Tonks swallowed and the noise seemed to echo off the empty cobblestone street.

“Contact us at the first chance you get,” Kingsley was murmuring. “You must be exceedingly careful that Snape does not see you cast your Patronus sine he knows what it looks like.” He paused, then added, “And even if there’s a possibility that someone else may have that Patronus, it would still raise too many suspicions. Just…be careful, Tonks.”

Knockturn Alley came into view then, looking even more desolate than Diagon. The rain was coming down harder now, obscuring the view beyond just a few feet, and when Tonks turned back towards Kingsley, he was gone.

Borgin & Burkes was a disgusting place, she decided upon entering the dark and dingy store. Artifacts, all Dark, she knew, lined the shelves; pickled eyeballs stared at her from jars and several shrunken heads catcalled her from deep inside. Her eye caught sight of the Vanishing Cabinet, and Tonks quickly squashed the urge to destroy it.

A man emerged suddenly from the shadows. “Hello, madam,” he rasped, his voice grating. With one final breath, Tonks disappeared and Viola emerged. She threw back the hood of her cloak and glared at the older man. She was high-birth, widowed and wealthy, and she was much more worthy of the Dark Lord’s loyalty than this pathetic wizard stooping before her.

She curled her lip and said, “I understand you have some connections with very…important people.” She tossed her long mane of hair and thought, _Imperio_.

The man’s eyes glazed over and she knew she had him. “I want to speak with them,” she ordered. “ _Now._ ”

He stumbled away.

Five minutes later she met her aunt Bellatrix for the first time.

* * *

She would not get a Dark Mark. She would not even have the privilege of meeting the Dark Lord. He had more pressing matters with which to concern himself.

“The infiltration of influential and high-society women was my sister’s idea,” said Narcissa Malfoy. Her hands trembled slightly as she sipped her afternoon tea. “I had, of course, been doing it for years, to great affect, and Bella thought it would be an excellent way to win over more of _our kind_ to the cause. We really are honored to have someone of your birth and background in our cause, Mrs Doppio.”

Viola smiled appreciatively. Inside, Tonks was screaming. “Thank you, Mrs Malfoy,” she said, and prepared her tea, though she spilled a little on her napkin.

“And with your potions skills,” Narcissa continued. Bloodshot blue eyes were not attractive on her. Nor was the massive scar now gracing her left cheek. “I know Severus has been in need of an aid, though he would never admit to it.”

Tonks’s stomach gave a lurch at Snape’s name. Viola merely smiled. “It is such an honor to be working with him,” she gushed. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Does he speak at all of the events on the night the Dark Lord won his greatest victory? I so wish to hear the details of Dumbledore’s death.”

“Oh no,” Narcissa breathed. “No, never. That is for the Dark Lord only. Severus is highly protective of that.”

With a nod of understanding, she took to her tea. Tomorrow she would be meeting the famed Severus Snape, Dumbledore’s murderer. Dumbledore’s betrayer.

* * *

Tonks smoothed down the front of her smock for the fifth time in so many minutes. Snape would be arriving soon and it wouldn’t do for her to exude anything but confidence when she saw the betrayer again.

She had never liked Snape back in school; of course, he’d hated her for simply being a Gryffindor, but she was good at Potions. Very good. She was the only Gryffindor in N.E.W.T. Potions her seventh year. Snape had made sure to make her life as difficult as possible during her time in that class. Later, when Tonks was taking the Impossibly Malicious Performance for the Auror examinations, she had actually been grateful for how Snape had pushed her in school. At the time, she’d partially contributed her passing I.M.P. Potions to him.

The thought made her sick now.

The door to the lab located in the basement of an old, worn house suddenly banged open and Severus Snape swooped into the room. At the sight of him, all the air in Tonks’s body seemed to whoosh out of her. Rage boiled to the surface and her wand hand itched. She could kill him now…she could do it. She was an Auror, she was—

“Mrs Doppio,” snarled Snape, and Tonks jolted once, only once, and then Viola swiftly took over her thoughts.

“Mr Snape,” she breathed, and held out a hand. Snape’s eyes flickered down briefly, but he made no move to shake her hand. “It is truly an honor to meet—”

“Save me your blithering attempts at flattery, Mrs Doppio,” he snapped, and whirled around, stalking over to the sinks lining the wall. He stuck his hands underneath a tap, muttered something, and began to wash his hands as the water started to flow.

“Instructions are on the table,” he said briskly. He turned around and wiped his hands on a paper towel, then billowed back over to her worktable and glared down at her. Viola was tall, but Snape will taller still.

He eyed her with black, emotionless eyes, and then nodded down to the ingredients organized meticulously on the table. “Recognize the potion?” he demanded.

Tonks lowered her gaze and examined the ingredients: asphodel, wormwood, some valerian roots, a handful of sopophorous beans…. She inhaled sharply and looked up with wide eyes. “Draught of Living Death,” she replied.

If Snape was impressed, he didn’t let it show in the slightest. He merely nodded and growled, “Follow the instructions. Whatever it is you learned in school was wrong. Follow my instructions or find yourself answering to me. Once you are finished preparing the ingredients, come and find me. I will be at my desk.”

She nodded rapidly and watched as Snape stalked away, disappearing into a dark room and slamming the door shut behind him. It was only then that Tonks allowed herself to breathe, her heart pounding away in her ribcage. She clenched and unclenched her shaking hands and then picked up the scrap of parchment. She’d forgotten how spiky Snape’s script could be.

Tonks remembered clearly N.E.W.T. Potions; remembered how they’d used _Advanced Potion-Making_ all of two times because Snape had referred to it as a “useless doorstop incapable of producing even basic rudimentary knowledge.” Instead, Snape had always posted their assignments and instructions on the board, and that’s how Tonks—and everyone else at Hogwarts—had learned Potions.

She was finishing up the sopophorous beans when Snape emerged from his lair. “You’ve had plenty of time to finish. If you are not done yet then you are of no use to me if you cannot even—” He stopped short upon realizing she had, in fact, finished preparing the ingredients. Snape bent his head low, examining them, and then straightened. Tonks nearly gaped at the expression on his face. He was _pleased_.

“It seems you may not be utterly incompetent after all,” Snape drawled, staring into her eyes. She felt the gentle probing of Legilimency, and images floated to the top of her mind; images of a man, boisterous and full of life, of their wedding, their lives together before Muggles killed him, the funeral…

Snape flicked his eyes away, breaking the connection, and turned his attention to the worktable. “Tell me, Mrs Doppio,” he murmured, his voice harsh, “have you ever experimented with potions?”

* * *

The idea was simple enough, but the execution would involve strenuous hours of testing, experiments, and ultimately failure.

“The Draught of Living Death is unstable as it is,” Snape told her that first day. “It takes expert handling for it to be made properly. Add in the factor of changing its chemical state…” He trailed off, frowning.

“Changing it into a gas is truly a remarkable undertaking,” Tonks said, her skin squirming with disgust. “The Dark Lord must trust you implicitly to place such a burden on you.”

Snape’s lip curled and his face twisted unattractively. “The Dark Lord trusts no one, Mrs Doppio.” He glared coolly at her. “It would behoove you to remember that.”

That had been over two weeks ago. For two weeks, Tonks had lived as Viola in that decrepit house, since her “real” one had burned to the ground, with only the slowly deteriorating Narcissa Malfoy to keep her company. Snape would arrive every morning at nine, no matter how late the two of them stayed up working on the potion. Every once in a while her aunt Bella would show up and give her and Narcissa updates on Death Eater activities, which often included numerous stories of death and mayhem. It was during one of those sessions that Tonks learned of Mad-Eye’s death.

Tonks entered the basement workroom after falling off the last step and was struggling with her smock when Snape approached her and shoved some parchment into her hands. “We need supplies,” he grunted, and thrust a bag of Galleons at her, which she almost dropped. “I, obviously, cannot go to Diagon myself, seeing as there is quite a hefty price on my head.” His voice was flat and his face utterly blank. “Somehow I don’t think you’ll stir such a reaction. You have one hour.”

Tonks rushed out of the house as soon as she could and Apparated to Diagon in a matter of minutes. She shot off a Patronus, which looked a little wispy around the edges, and headed towards the apothecary. The entire alley was deserted but for a few stragglers, and Tonks stuck out more than Snape would think. She was perusing the shelves of the empty store for a while before a short, squat man with grey-yellow hair and dirty robes approached her.

“I hear the flowers in Spain are beautiful this time of year,” the man wheezed as he examined a jar of bat wings.

Tonks nodded in agreement. “They’re nice, I suppose, but much more beautiful in Italy.” She turned around and smiled thinly at the man, whose eyes were flickering towards the front of the shop. The woman at the counter was oblivious to their conversation.

With a muttered spell, they were enclosed in a silencing bubble, and Kingsley began to speak. “How long do you have?”

Tonks glanced at her watch. “Thirty minutes.”

“Tell me.”

She inhaled deeply, and began to walk the aisle, collecting ingredients along the way. Kingsley followed close behind, catching several of the items Tonks would accidentally knock off the shelves. “You-Know-Who has Snape making the Draught of Living Death. But that’s not all.” Tonks bit her lip and turned to face Kingsley. “He wants Snape to turn the potion into a gas so that they can release it into the atmosphere. When it rains, everyone in the vicinity will be affected and fall into a coma. Most of them will be Muggles, so they will have no way of counteracting the potion.”

“Has there been any success?” Kingsley asked.

Tonks shook her head. “No. We keep hitting road-blocks with the conversion formulas.”

Kingsley was frowning deeply, and several new lines appeared on the old man’s face. “Do you know where they’re keeping you? Do you recognize it at all?”

“No.” She sighed in frustration. “It’s on a hill. It’s a large house, but old and dusty. It reminds me of Grimmauld Place, to tell the truth.”

“Wizarding?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Lots of electrical outlets. You don’t see that often in Wizarding homes.” She glanced at her watch and swore. “I’ve got to run. I’m going to try and look at his notes as soon as I can.”

Kingsley gripped her arm and squeezed. “Please be careful,” he said, eyes clouded with concern. “There’s…one more thing, Tonks.”

“I know about Mad-Eye,” she said shortly. He looked stunned for only a moment before he nodded and then limped out of the store. Tonks purchased the ingredients and dashed out of the shop and into the street before Disapparating, luckily all without falling. After arriving at the desolate house, she hurried inside and down into the basement, again tripping at that last damn step, and presented the ingredients to Snape. After a brief examination, he approved them and set her out to preparing them once again.

“Did you encounter any trouble?” he asked. If Tonks didn’t know better, she thought he actually sounded interested.

“Oh,” she said, “er, no, Mr Snape. In fact, Diagon was rather deserted. No lines at all. It was nice not having to deal with the Mudbloods and blood traitors that usually clog the street.”

“And yet,” he drawled, piercing her with a look, “it still took you the whole hour to travel there and back.” Snape put down the quill he’d been taking notes with and stood. Tonks’s heart began to pound in her chest. A thousand thoughts began to stream through her mind as she tried to come up with a plausible excuse: wanted to see a friend, family, have a cuppa…

“Madam Malkin’s,” she blurted. Snape’s eye narrowed dangerously. “I wanted to look at some new robes,” Tonks babbled. “It’s been months since I’ve had anything new, sir, and I just wanted a look, that’s all. She’s closed, did you know? But I peered in the window and saw some really beautiful robes.”

Snape’s eyes were dark and unreadable as he stared at her. Finally, he said, “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is in Diagon?” He sneered at her and crossed the room to where she was standing. He stopped mere inches from her body and loomed over her menacingly.

“I was careful,” she said, jutting out her chin. “I’m not stupid.”

Lip curling, Snape rubbed his chin, then asked, “Why are you here?”

Tonks was taken aback for a moment; she was certainly not expecting such a question ever to come from Snape. “To help you make this potion,” she answered, trying to look proud and honored when she was feeling nothing but. Snape said nothing as he continued to stare at her.

Finally, he backed away and Tonks exhaled as quietly as she could.

“The Dark Lord has requested our company tonight,” Snape announced as he walked back over to his office. Tonks’s heart jumped to her throat. He glanced at her from over his shoulder and smiled nastily. “Be ready in thirty minutes.”

* * *

Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. They were all around her, talking, _chatting_ , laughing as if they weren’t all murderous, prejudiced, pathetic excuse for human beings. And suddenly, Tonks had become one of them, with her black robes and black hood…and the mask. Snape had Transfigured one for her out of a lamp shade. Even Narcissa had been forced to come, though the mask did cover the scar running down her once beautiful face. She had arrived with Tonks and Snape and had immediately attached herself to Bellatrix, who then promptly put Narcissa in a corner.

Tonks squeezed her eyes shut and took several deep breaths that did nothing to calm her down. Absurdly, Snape’s presence by her side was comforting; she at least knew him, knew what he was like. But these people…. She shuddered, and suddenly there was a hand on her elbow.

“Stop shaking,” Snape murmured, his voice muffled by the mask. “You’re not going to have to meet the Dark Lord. He only ordered for all his followers to meet here tonight. Apparently there’s been, ah…a victory for them. Us.”

Tonks’s heart dropped into her stomach. _A victory?_ Did Snape mean Moody’s death? _Oh, God,_ she thought, panicking, _please don’t have let anyone else have died. Please, please…_

“What happened?” she managed to croak.

Snape stepped closer and glanced down at her. “Several Muggles and Muggle-borns were killed last night,” he said, and Tonks watched in fascination as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Mass murders, tortures. Most of the Muggle-borns were taken prisoner...” He trailed off and stared into the center clearing of the room. “Apparently they will be making an appearance tonight.”

The roar in Tonks’s ears intensified. “What?” she whispered, unable to keep the horror out of her voice.

Snape looked down at her and sneered. “What’s the matter, Mrs Doppio? Isn’t this what you wanted? I thought you hated Muggles.”

Too many thoughts were whirling in her head and Tonks knew, she _knew_ that she needed to say something, anything, to recover, but she couldn’t speak. He was staring into her eyes, but he wasn’t pressuring her mind, wasn’t seeking any answers. He was just staring, and God, she couldn’t take it anymore. She tore her gaze away from his, biting her lip to keep from screaming.

His hand was still gripping her arm.

“I don’t want this,” she whispered to the floor, so quietly, there was no way he could hear it, but when she looked up again, he was still staring at her, eyes black and emotionless, and then suddenly a hush fell over the room and everyone dropped to their knees. Tonks found herself pulled downwards, and she tripped on the too long hem of her robes and cracked her knees painfully against the harsh floor. _He’s here,_ she thought frantically. He was in the room, she could feel the air change with his very presence. Oh God, she couldn’t look up because he’d know. He’d know and find her and kill her and…

There was a hand on her upper arm squeezing. It jolted her back to earth and she turned her head sharply. Snape’s head was stilled bowed. “Stop. Shaking,” he ground out, and gripped her arm painfully once more before letting go. Tonks let out a long, unsteady breath, and then turned her head to stare at the floor. No one was moving; no one _dared_ to move. Finally, he spoke, and it was the most horrible thing Tonks had ever heard.

“Rise, my faithful friends.”

The voice was cold and high and utterly inhuman. Tonks’s insides turned to ice upon hearing him speak. And then suddenly, the occupants of the room rose as if one; Tonks found herself pulled into a standing position, stepping on the hem again, and caught her balance on Snape, who was once again grasping her arm.

“Tonight is truly a night of celebration, my friends,” said the Dark Lord. Bile rose in the back of Tonks’s throat. She couldn’t bear to look at the creature standing in the empty space in the middle of the room, but somehow she knew that he was smiling a horrible smile.

“As such,” he continued, pacing the outer edge of the circle, “I thought you all would like so play. Wormtail, would you please bring in our guests?”

This time, Tonks did raise her head in time to see a short, fat man scurry out of the room. Rage boiled in her veins at the mere thought of Peter Pettigrew, the man—the _coward_ —who had all but killed the Potters, had left Harry an orphan, had ruined Sirius’s life, destroyed Remus’s faith, brought the Dark Lord back…

She had to go. She had to go or she would be forced to watch, and Tonks knew that she could not handle that. She would give away her ruse; she wasn’t strong enough. She might know those people, might have gone to school together or worked at the Ministry with them. But she couldn’t stay, she wouldn’t. She turned to leave, her robes overpowering her, tripping her, but Snape grabbed her hand and jerked her against his body.

“Where are you going?” he hissed into her ear, his breath slightly foul and his body smelling of potions and musk. Tonks tried to jerk away, but Snape held fast, pulling her closer against him. “Watch,” he growled against her neck. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Mrs Doppio? Don’t you hate Muggles? Mudbloods? Isn’t this the world you want to live in?”

His breath ghosted across her skin, and she shivered and turned her head into his chest. She couldn’t do this, she wasn’t strong enough.

Snape gripped her chin and harshly turned her head in time to watch an older man being led into the room by Wormtail, a long chain wrapped around his neck.

Tonks struggled to turn away, but Snape refused to release her, his grip becoming tighter. “ _Watch,_ ” he growled.

She had no choice.

* * *

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Snape asked her the next morning.

Tonks ignored him, and continued to chop up some roots a bit violently. She hadn’t slept at all, actually, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that. Or that Narcissa had spent most of the night holding Viola’s hair away from her face as she vomited into a toilet, rubbing circles on her back and speaking in calm tones. The sheer absurdity of the situation had not been lost on Tonks, but she could only deal with one nervous breakdown at a time.

Snape narrowed his eyes at Tonks’s silence. She could feel his gaze boring into her, but she refused to look up. Suddenly, Snape was by her side, wrenching her knife out of her hand. “What are you doing?” he snapped. “Those roots cost a fortune, you imbecile!”

“So?” she snarled. “I can afford it!”

Air hissed through Snape’s bared teeth. “Since it appears to be beyond your ability of rational thought,” he spat, “I might remind you that herbologists have stopped shipping to Britain for fear of their lives. So we’re a _little short_ on potions supplies, Mrs Doppio. Your money will get you nowhere here.”

It was then Tonks realized that he was squeezing her wrist, rather hard, and she tried to wrench herself free, but Snape only gripped tighter. “Let go of me,” she ordered, glaring into his ugly face. Snape’s lip curled, but he did not release her. Tonks let out a strangled cry, then spun her body around and shoved Snape in the chest with her elbow, twisting her arm free in the process. She jammed her hand into her robes, twirled back around and pointed her wand into his throat.

Snape stared at her, a look of honest shock on his face, and he did not move.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” Tonks warned. Snape remained still, but she could tell he was itching to reach for his wand, when a noise of someone descending the basement stairs caught their attention.

Tonks backed up, not lowering her wand, while Snape eyed the opening to the stairs. The footsteps were heavy and a bit unsteady, but Tonks could tell they belonged to a woman. Bella, or possibly…

“Narcissa,” Snape said. Tonks dropped her wand and watched as he crossed the room, reaching Narcissa just as she was about to trip on a broom handle. “What are you doing down here?” His eyes flickered briefly to Tonks.

“Severus,” she mumbled, her voice breathless and strained, and it was then Tonks caught a whiff of firewhisky. “Severus, where’s my boy? Where’s my Draco?”

Snape inhaled just loudly enough for Tonks to notice. He stepped closer to Narcissa, as if to block Tonks out, and said very quietly, “I don’t know where he is, remember?”

“No.” Narcissa shook her head and her knees buckled slightly, swaying into Snape’s arms. “His letters…hasn’t sent me one in weeks. You’d always bring them to me, remember? Where’s my boy, Severus?”

Snape gripped Narcissa’s upper arms gently, yet firmly, and looked her in the eye. “I don’t know,” he said. “He disappeared that night, Narcissa, remember? No one’s seen him since the night Dumbledore—”

Tonks watched in fascination as Snape swallowed thickly. “He’s missing, Narcissa,” he continued.

Narcissa shook her head, wobbling on her feet, before promptly passing out in Snape’s arms. He looked alarmed for only a moment before he picked her up and carried her up the stairs without a backwards glance towards Tonks.

She decided then that another trip to the apothecary was in order.

* * *

“Tell me everything we know about Draco Malfoy’s whereabouts.”

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. Or he would have, if his four-foot tall, ancient body had any eyebrows. “You certainly don’t beat around the bush, do you?” He stroked the long beard decorating his face and picked up a jar of pickled newts. “We assumed he was with the Death Eaters. Potter kept thinking Malfoy would show up at Grimmauld Place, seeking mercy or some shit.”

Tonks frowned and shoved a phial of unicorn hair into her hand basket. “Snape said he was missing. Malfoy, I mean. That he hadn’t been seen since the night Snape murdered Dumbledore.” She bit her lip and struggled with her basket after it got caught on her robes.

“But…?” Kingsley prompted, and Tonks cast him a side-long glance.

“I think he’s lying.”

Again, the lack of eyebrows was disturbing her. “Don’t ask me why, okay?” she said. “Just—I have a hunch.”

“A _hunch_.” Kingsley sighed and added some troll bogies to her basket. “I’m gonna need more than that.”

“I can’t give you more,” she snapped. “But I could, if you tell me Snape’s last known residence.”

Kingsley groaned softy and ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking very exhausted. “We’ve tried finding his house—in some place called Spinner’s End—for months now, to no avail. He’s blocked us somehow, either with an Unplottable Spell or he’s got a Secret-Keeper… You won’t be able to get any information out of him on that aspect.”

“I’ll follow him, then,” she decided.

“It’s too dangerous.”

Tonks had had enough. She whipped around, her robes narrowly avoiding a large display of pickled prunes, and glared at him. “ _Dangerous?_ ” she hissed. “Do you have _any_ idea what I went through last night?” Kingsley visibly paled. She had mentioned the meeting very briefly in the Patronus she’d sent, but hadn’t said a word about it since arriving in the shop.

“ _Dangerous_ was me being in the presence of the fucking Dark Lord. _Dangerous_ is me living in some dilapidated house with a Death Eater’s deformed wife and working with a man who murdered Albus Dumbledore. But following him home?” Her nostrils flared. “Fucking tops marks in concealment and disguise, King. Don’t fucking talk to me about _danger_.”

She made to leave when Kingsley spoke.

“Tonks.”

It was the way he said her name that made her stop dead. It was the same voice he’d use when he tried to tell her about Moody. That same exhausted, weary voice. Slowly, heart pounding in her chest, she turned to face him. “What is it?” she said quietly.

“Before Moody—” Kingsley stopped and swallowed thickly. “ _Before,_ he and I took to listening in on some of Potter’s conversations.”

“You were _eavesdropping_?” Tonks had the sudden hysterical urge to laugh. “Well, what did you hear then?”

“Not much,” he replied. “Potter’s been pretty tight-lipped since Dumbledore died. But…I do know that Potter isn’t returning to Hogwarts this year. And neither are Granger and Weasley.”

Tonks gaped at him. “But why?”

Kingsley yanked a little on his beard, looking distracted. “I don’t know, but they’ve mentioned something about a quest several times and…” He trailed off and raised his head to look into Tonks’s eyes. “Do you know what a Horcrux is?” he asked suddenly. Tonks frowned and shook her head. “Nor do I,” he murmured. “But it’s come up several times, and the three seemed pretty anxious about it. See if you can’t find out somehow from Snape.”

Before she could respond, Kingsley’s face suddenly contorted unnaturally and with a jolt, Tonks realized how long they’d been talking. After a hasty good-bye, Kingsley rushed out of the apothecary, growing taller by the second. Tonks smoothed her robes and her nerves, then approached the cashier to check out.

* * *

It was after the third attempt to turn the potion into a gas that Snape hurled a phial against the stone wall, shattering it to pieces.

It was the seventeenth phial overall.

“There wasn’t enough asphodel that time,” he growled to the room at large. On the worktable, a rat ran back and forth in its enclosed magical cage, squeaking, anxiously seeking a way out. Tonks sighed and sprinkled some of the counter-potion on the rat’s head, ending its hormonal-induced misery. She and Snape had learned the hard way how wormwood affected rats, and if the asphodel was infused with too little, then the animals would go into heat. They had also made the mistake of letting that rat escape and now the basement was never quiet, due to the sounds of rats scurrying in the walls and underneath the floor.

With a sigh, Tonks crouched down to examine the clear liquid bubbling in the cauldron. A perfectly brewed Draught of Living Death. But it wasn’t vapor. They had brewed that potion over twenty times, and every time it failed to change into a gas. Tonks was really beginning to hate the damn thing.

“Maybe if we kept the proportions the same, but add them in a different order,” murmured Tonks. “The roots, for instance. They could go after the infusion, and then stirred, and _then_ added—”

“No,” snapped Snape, though there was very little venom in his voice. He just sounded tired. “I already tried that.”

Tonks was startled. “When?”

“Before you got here,” he spat, and the malice was there that time. With a grunt of annoyance, Snape took off his smock and crossed to the sinks. He was a methodological hand-washer, Tonks had noticed over the past few weeks. If she couldn’t find him in his office, she always looked towards the sinks next. It amused her somewhat to think about Snape wanting his hands to be clean at all times when his hair could seriously use the same attention.

Tonks was actually just opening her mouth to make that observation when Snape turned around and yawned widely. Tonks’s jaw dropped as she then watched him stretch and pop his knuckles. She’d _never_ seen Snape acting so…so un-Snape-like, so normal, so…

“Human,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I said it was humid in here.” Tonks smiled prettily and Snape blinked at her for a moment.

Pursing his lips, he straightened out the front of his robes, then said, “I think we’ve done enough here tonight. Get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tonks nodded and watched as Snape locked his office door and ascended the stairs out of the basement. He was about halfway up when she blurted, “What will happen if we don’t succeed? What will the Dark Lord do?”

Snape stopped dead and the room became deathly silent; the tension in the air was palpable. Slowly, he turned around, his face white, and his eyes blacker than she’d ever seen them. He stepped back down into the room, still silent, and Tonks’s heart pounded in her chest the closer he got to her. Snape stopped only inches from her body and with a sneer, he said, “What do you think will happen, Mrs Doppio?”

Tonks took a stuttering breath. “We’ll be punished.”

Chuckling mirthlessly, Snape shook his head and stepped even closer. “No,” he murmured, “ _I’ll_ be punished. _You_ , however…” He trailed off, and Tonks could see nothing in his eyes, no emotion whatsoever. He was completely blank.

Tonks tore her gaze away from his and licked her lips. With a determined sigh, she looked back at Snape and his eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Well,” she said, “I suppose we shouldn’t fail, then.”

He snorted. “No,” Snape drawled, his eyes searching her face, “I suppose not. Good night, Mrs Doppio.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and marched out of the room, his robes flapping behind him. It was only after she heard his dulled footsteps above and the faint slam of a door that she dared to breathe.

Then she sprinted up the stairs. She didn’t even trip on the last step.

Tonks burst out of the house just as Snape was Disapparating. Muttering a tracking charm, Tonks quickly altered her appearance while the spell coalesced. She Morphed back into her usual body, shortened her hair, and transfigured her clothes into something more practical for trailing and spying. The spell finally turned a dark pink, and with a wave of her wand, Tonks’s mind filled with the images of Snape’s destination.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she twisted her body and Disapparated.  
* * *

It had taken her many years, but she had finally mastered the art of Apparating without a crack or pop. She appeared beneath a tree older than time itself and in the distance she could see Snape striding quickly down the street. Tonks rapped herself on her head once, and after feeling the cool trickling of the Disillusionment Charm, she set out after him, keeping a good distance.

After several minutes, Snape stopped suddenly and Tonks crouched down behind a straggly bush, watching closely. Snape had removed his wand from his robes and appeared to be waving it haphazardly at thin air. Tonks blinked once and suddenly a small, somewhat decaying house appeared. She took off in a sprint; the house would only stay unspelled for a specific amount of time, and Tonks expected that once Snape entered the house it would disappear again and she’d be left out in the cold.

There was a back door, and a quick diagnostic determined that the spells had indeed been lowered upon Snape’s arrival. She quickly peeked into a window and saw the front door opening. _Small house_ , she thought inanely, and then unlocked the door and slipped inside.

A moment later the front door closed and the structure shuddered once, as if heaving a great sigh, and disappeared from view to the outside world.

Tonks pressed herself up against the cooling cabinet and watched Snape as he stood stock still in the middle of the sitting area, his head bowed and stringy hair falling in his face. He just stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the floor, the deafening silence nearly overwhelming her. It was only the sound of footsteps that brought Tonks screaming back to reality.

“Professor,” said Draco Malfoy, his cheeks pink as he stepped away from the stairs and into the sitting room. “You’re home early.”

Snape had since raised his head and had set about removing his cloak when he said, “We’re not having any luck with the potion, so I ended the evening early.”

Malfoy smirked a little and walked over to a bookshelf lined with alcohol. “I can’t imagine why,” he said, smiling as he poured Snape a drink. Tonks’s brow furrowed at that.

He crossed back over to where Snape had collapsed on the sofa. “Here,” he said, handing Snape a glass of scotch. Snape nodded and took a sip while Malfoy situated himself on the other end of the sofa. They sat in a companionable silence for several minutes until Malfoy spoke.

“I think I may have found something interesting,” he said, fingering an old gold chain that hung from his neck and disappeared into his robes. “It was in this old book— _Ye Olde Darke and Evile Wayf_ , or some such….”

“ _Of Dark and Evil Times_ ,” Snape muttered.

Malfoy waved that away with his hand. “Right. The book never referred to it by name, but it’s referenced several times throughout the chapter titled _Howe Thee Can Liveth Unto the Endeth of Timeth_.”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Bring the tome to me. Let’s have a look.”

Malfoy looked pleased and hopped up, disappearing into another room briefly before returning to the sofa. When Malfoy pointed out the chapter in question, Tonks saw her only opportunity and quickly ascended the stairs. There were three doors to choose from on the floor. The first was a loo, but the second was large and a set of adult black robes were draped across a chair by a window.

Oh, lord, she was in Snape’s bedroom.

When she was in school, all the older students would speculate on the contents of Snape’s bedchambers. Naturally, whips and chains came up in conversation, though had never been taken too seriously. Tonks had always fancied that everything was black, green, or silver—or, of course, a combination thereof.

Perhaps Snape’s quarters at Hogwarts had looked like that, but Snape no longer worked there, and this room definitely did not resemble anything she had imagined. It was small and dusty and dark, with only the barest hint of moonlight streaming in through the window. The bedding was a dull, faded brown, the wood floors scuffed, and the mirror above the dresser was cracked nearly right down the middle.

Against the other wall hung a tapestry that actually appeared rather new, and looked not a little out of place. It stretched from the ceiling down to the floor and covered a good half of the wall, looking almost as if it were hiding something…

Heart beating, Tonks took one step before Snape’s voice could be heard directly outside his bedroom door. Tonks jumped and backed up quickly into the darkest corner of the room farthest from the bed, shrinking in on herself. As long as she didn’t move, Snape shouldn’t be able to see her.

The door open, light spilling into the bedroom, and Snape’s dark form was framed in the threshold. “Leave it for tomorrow,” he was saying, and Tonks could just make out Draco’s form in the corridor. “We’ll make a decision, but for now we must sleep.”

“All right,” came Draco’s voice. “Goodnight, Professor.”

Snape sighed softly. “Likewise, Draco.” He shut the door gently behind him and crossed over to his bed, lighting a small candle on his side table along the way. The room was now bathed in a soft light, and Tonks tried her best to disappear into the corner.

Snape was standing by his bed, staring down into the flame of the candle, motionless for several minutes. Tonks watched in utter silence, though her heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t moving; hell, he hardly looked to be breathing. He just stood there and stared and stared. The tapestry on the wall fluttered.

Blinking suddenly, Snape shook his head once before stepping away from the table and crossing over to the chair, moving closer to Tonks. He set about removing his robes, revealing a pair of black trousers and a black collared shirt. Tonks was surprised; not many wizards or witches wore much besides underwear underneath full robes.

Snape draped his robes over the other set on the chair and then sank down onto his bed, which creaked in protest. Again, he stared, though at what Tonks didn’t know. His gaze was unfocused, his mind clearly somewhere else. His hands, which had been hanging limply in his lap, moved to his head, where he proceeded to attempt to iron his face off with his hands. He stopped almost at once, and with his hands still buried in his hands, Snape doubled over, head between his knees, and let out a muffled shout. His breathing was labored, echoing loudly in the too silent room. Snape scrubbed his face once more, then ran his hands through his hair, which fell in stringy strands around his face. He was very pale, and Tonks could see that he was shaking, just a little…

The tapestry fluttered again, louder this time.

Snape clenched his fists and Tonks could hear him grinding his teeth. His face was a mask of pain, though whether physical or emotional, Tonks didn’t know.

“Draco will have to leave soon,” Snape murmured suddenly into the silence. Tonks had to bite her lip to keep from gasping.

“You know it must be done.”

That time Tonks stuffed her whole fist in her mouth, but a gasp escaped anyway. Luckily, Snape had risen from the bed and the creaking had covered the noise. He was approaching the tapestry, and with one flick of his wand, the curtain flew to the side to reveal a portrait.

Not just any portrait.

Tonks’s knees completely gave out and she sank down to the floor, squeezing her eyes shut. She never thought she’d see him again, she wasn’t expecting to see him, not ever. His portrait at Hogwarts was still dormant, under some spell no one could break, but he was there, Tonks could see him with her own eyes, and he was talking to his murderer.

Albus Dumbledore smiled benignly at Snape, who in return scowled and folded his arms.

“Harry needs the locket, Severus,” said Dumbledore.

Snape scoffed. “And you really think Potter’s ready for Draco? Ready for that responsibility?”

“In the end,” murmured Dumbledore, “it doesn’t matter if Harry is ready or not; he has to do this. It is his destiny; it is his choice.”

Snape said nothing, merely sank down onto the bed once more, his back to Tonks. He and Dumbledore remained silent for several moments. Finally, Dumbledore spoke: “How is the potion coming?”

Snape actually growled, low in his throat, the sound sending a spark down Tonks’s spine, and said, “It’s not coming along at all, I’m afraid.”

“Oh dear,” Dumbledore said. “How unfortunate. And Mrs Doppio still suspects nothing?”

Tonks noticed Snape’s back stiffen at the mention of her alias. “No,” he said shortly.

“You haven’t spoken much of her,” commented Dumbledore. Snape said nothing, and Dumbledore sighed. “She may be a risk.”

Snape snorted loudly. “Hardly,” he drawled. “She’s—”

“She’s a _risk_ ,” Dumbledore stressed. “If she’s as competent in potions as you claim, then she may already be suspicious of why none of the experiments are working.”

Tonks was stunned; not only did Snape say she was competent, but he must have actually spoken of her once before.

Snape stood from the bed and began to pace along that side of the room. “I told you of her night with the Dark Lord,” he murmured. “How she acted.”

“Most people are frightened upon seeing Lord Voldemort for the first time.”

Wincing badly, Snape shook his head and said, “No, it was different. I could see in her eyes that she was disgusted by what she was witnessing. It wasn’t a normal reaction, at least not from someone claiming to be a loyal Death Eater.”

Dumbledore hummed. “From what I’ve heard from you, she’s too intelligent for her own good, and could just as easily be tricking you into a false sense of security. It doesn’t help that you’ve begun to notice her looks—”

“I never said that!” Snape hissed, clenching his fists as he came to a stop in from of the portrait. Tonks felt herself flush from head to toe.

Dumbledore merely smiled benignly, the act so familiar to Tonks that she nearly cried. She never thought she’d see that smile again.

“I can’t …tell anything, what’s going on in her mind,” Snape was saying with a frown. “She’s quite adept at Occlumency, whether she knows it or not. She still seems to be hiding something, and her personality appears to alter day by day…”

Tonks heart skipped a beat and she mentally cursed herself for letting her Viola persona slip so many times. Not but a few days ago she had fallen down the last few steps in the basement and had sworn up a storm that would have made a sailor blush, something quite unbefitting a high society lady.

“All the more reason not to trust her,” said Dumbledore solemnly.

Snape raised his head and gave Dumbledore a wary look. “Why are you so suspicious of her?” he asked.

Dumbledore didn’t respond, and Snape scowled and sat down on the bed again. The room again descended into silence for quite a while and Tonks hardly dared to breathe. Her mind was whirling and she was confused beyond comprehension. Nothing was making sense to her any longer, and the more she thought about Snape and Dumbledore and that bloody potion, the more confused she got. It was as if everything she ever knew was wrong, and that frightened her more than anything.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke into the quiet. “Severus,” he said softly, and Snape jerked his head up. “I thought I heard something earlier coming from the backyard. Would you please go investigate, just to clear an old man’s mind before bed?”

Snape made a face that was both exasperated yet fond. “There’s no one out there,” he said, choosing to ignore the fact that Dumbledore was now a portrait and thus had no mind to clear. “I’ve made sure no one can get past my spells.”

“Humor me.” Dumbledore smiled. Muttering, Snape rose and strode out of the room, and Tonks stood quickly to follow. It would be her only chance to leave this house undetected. However, before she could even cross the room, Dumbledore was speaking again.

“I cannot see you,” he said, very quietly. “But this is your only opportunity to leave, and I suggest you take advantage. Good luck, Miss Tonks.” With that, he smoothed out his robes and walked out of the painting.

Tonks didn’t have any time to think; throwing a quick muffling charm on her feet, she stumbled out of the room and down the stairs. Snape was in the backyard, looking extremely bored as he scanned the perimeter, and Tonks shuffled along the wall of the house before she felt safe enough to Disapparate.

With nary a sound, she arrived back at the desolate house she’d called home for the past several weeks, and felt her entire world shift and fall apart at the seams.

* * *

It took Tonks a week to work up her nerve.

She didn’t tell Kingsley her plan. He’d have surely forbidden it. No, she kept it to herself, locked away in a small room in her mind, where only she had the key. It was a simple plan, not elaborate in the slightest, but it was the only thing she had. It kept her sane during the past week, gave her focus.

She tried her best not to think about Snape during that week. Not to think about the man she thought he was, and the man he turned out to be. She refused to think about Dumbledore. He’d invaded her dreams every night too many times to count.

Snape had also been in her dreams lately, like an echo in the back of her mind, a faded memory she couldn’t quite grasp. He’d been ever present in her thoughts, and Tonks found herself worrying about him. Snape was not a nice man; he was cruel and brutal, but she knew him now. She knew all about him.

He was running late that night, and the longer Tonks fiddled with potions ingredients she discovered had been hexed useless, the more anxious she became. He should have been there over an hour ago.

Finally, a sound from above alerted her to his presence, and she listened carefully to his footsteps echoing in the empty house. Narcissa had gone missing the day before.

Snape stepped into the basement and immediately walked over to the sinks. Tonks wasted no time; she withdrew her wand, aiming it at the basement door, and hissed an incantation, sealing the room. Snape whirled around, water sloshing down onto his robes, and moved for his wand.

“Don’t,” hissed Tonks, her voice low and dangerous. “Don’t move.”

Snape curled his lip but he remained motionless. Tonks licked her lips and said, “I know you’ve been sabotaging the potion. I want to know why.”

Snape’s eyes darkened and his entire face became smooth and emotionless. “I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about.”

Tonks gripped her wand tightly. Snape had straightened up and taken a small step away from the sinks. “Potions conversions are difficult, but not impossible,” she said. “With our combined skills, this should have been completed weeks ago. But nothing’s happened. All of the experiments have failed.” Her heart was pounding, her palms sweating.

“So I did some tests,” she said at last. Tonks took a step to the left, towards the worktable, and Snape’s black gaze followed her. “The roots have gone bad, but you’ve made them as if they’re fresh. The wormwood is hexed and you and I both know that magically altered ingredients are impotent—don’t move!” she snapped when Snape took another small step forward.

He snarled and said, “What exactly do you plan on doing?” He gestured widely to the room. “You’ve nowhere to go. You can’t Apparate out of this house, and I’m blocking your escape.”

“I’m not trying to escape,” Tonks barked. “In case you haven’t noticed, you miserable old man, I haven’t taken your wand, and nor do I plan to! I just want to know _why_!”

Snape stared at her, and Tonks could practically see the wheels turning in his head. The room was thick with tension, their heavy breathing the only sound. Snape frowned and his eyes drifted from Tonks’s face to her wand. “Why what?” he said at last.

“Everything!” Tonks exploded, and everything finally came tumbling out. Her insecurities, her doubts and fears, all her questions and uncertainties regarding Snape. She couldn’t keep it all bottled up any more. “Why you killed Dumbledore, why you betrayed him— _us_! Why his portrait at Hogwarts isn’t moving but the _one in your bedroom_ works just fine!” Snape stiffened and his eyes flashed with anger.

Tonks took a deep, shuddering breath. “I want to know why you’ve led all the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who to believe that Draco Malfoy is dead when you’re hiding him in your house. I want to know where my au—where Narcissa’s gone. I want to know _why_ you’re such a cruel, hateful, horrible man yet you’re clearly not on You-Know-Who’s side!”

Snape stared at her, face utterly blank, and Tonks swallowed heavily. “Who are you?” he asked, and Tonks had to strain to hear him. “Who sent you?”

“You’re not a nice man,” she said, her voice shaking only a little.

“I should hope not,” Snape snarled.

“You’re not a coward,” she continued, and Snape went very still.

He stared at her for a long moment and something flickered behind his eyes. “No,” he said at last.

Tonks exhaled loudly and lowered her wand. Snape’s hands twitched briefly, as if he wished to reach for his wand, but then remained unmoving.

“The Order sent you.” It was a not a question. Tonks nodded. Snape sneered at her and said, “Sent you to kill me?”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Tonks replied, “No, they needed a spy. Remus had been exposed and you…” She trailed off and gave him a look. “I was the only one who could infiltrate.”

Snape scoffed. “You’re decent at potions, but your acting could have been a little better. I knew there was something going on, Mrs Doppio—”

Tonks barked out a laugh, and Snape’s face clouded over. “You think I’m Viola Doppio?” Tonks said, a little gleefully. It wasn’t every day that someone could pull the veil over Severus Snape’s eyes. His nostrils flared and he strode forward quickly, and Tonks stumbled backwards at his sudden movement, tripping over the hem of her robes, and the next thing she knew, Snape had backed her against the wall, his body practically covering hers, his breath ghosting over her skin.

“You’re not taking Polyjuice,” he murmured, and Tonks shivered. He was standing too close, much too close.

“No,” she whispered.

“Let’s see,” Snape continued in a low voice. “Adequate at Potions, capable of following me and getting past my spells, able to change her appearance without the aid of Polyjuice…And possibly the clumsiest person I’ve ever known.” He smiled then, and it was not a nice smile at all, but Tonks’s eyes slid shut as Snape moved further into her personal space.

Slowly the change began: first her nose, always the easiest, then the rest of her face, becoming fuller, younger. Then her hair shortened and turned an obscene pink, because she knew it must annoy him, and when the transformation was complete, she opened her eyes and raised her chin.

“Miss Tonks,” said Snape, looking somewhat amused. “I…am impressed.”

Tonks smirked, only a little, and then he was practically on top of her, all around her, she couldn’t see the floor anymore. His black robes were engulfing her, and he was so close, his body pressed against hers, his lips brushing the apples of her cheeks. Their breathing was heavy, panting, and Tonks’s heart was pounding in her chest, knees shaking, and before she could think, move, breathe, she was kissing him.

Snape was stunned for only a moment and then he was kissing her back with equal force. His technique was a little clumsy, as if still working it all out, but it aroused Tonks even more. Snape was kissing all the air out of her body, and his hands were on her waist, kneading the flesh, and hers had found their way onto his shoulders, squeezing the tense muscle.

Moaning into her mouth, Snape wrapped his arms around her entire body, pulling her flush against his, and continued to kiss her with abandon, running his tongue along the seem of her lips, brushing against her own tongue, tugging her bottom lip with his teeth.

Tonks’s head felt deliciously light and her skin was so hot; she could feel the sweat pooling in the base of her spine. Snape’s hands had drifted farther north, and his fingertips gently grazed the outline of her breasts. Tonks moaned and Snape jerked back as if stung, though he still clung to her waist.

Eyes wide and not a little wild looking, hair disheveled and face flushed an attractive red, he swallowed and said, “We shouldn’t—”

Tonks didn’t give him a chance to change his mind. Concentrating, eyes shut, she Apparated the two of them to her bedroom on the uppermost floor of the house. Snape blinked, disoriented for a moment, before realizing what she had done.

She grinned cheekily and said, “There aren’t any spells preventing us from Apparating _within_ the house.”

Snape made a face. “We shouldn’t—” he began again, but Tonks silenced him with a kiss, and he did not protest again.

“Don’t talk,” she murmured against his lips, and pushed him up against a wall, stumbling blindly in the dark.

With a grunt, Tonks ground her hips against Snape’s, moaning as she felt his erection press into her belly. The room was stifling, so hot, and she had to get out of her heavy robes. She pulled back slightly and began to unbutton her robes with shaking hands. Snape watched her with lowered lashes, panting heavily and palming at the front of his trousers.

The last button was undone and Tonks let the thick robes fall to the floor, standing before Snape in only her knickers. Judging by his increasingly labored breathing, it seemed that Snape liked what he saw.

“Lie down on the bed,” he said softly. Tonks quirked her lips and backed up slowly until the backs of her knees hit the side of the mattress. Climbing up onto the bed, she scooted backwards until she was propped up by her pillows.

Snape had watched her closely the entire time, and when she was finally situated on the bed, he stepped forward, undoing the cuffs on his shirt. His dark, lanky hair framed his face, and the shadows in the room made him appear even more dark and looming. Tonks shuddered and ran a hand over her abdomen several times, moaning softly.

Snape swallowed loud enough for her to hear and then he was climbing onto the bed, moving closer until he reached Tonks’s feet. He grasped her ankles and then slid his hands up her calves, spreading her legs with his knee as he slowly moved up the bed, until both her legs were spread around his waist.

He lightly ran a long finger over the waistband of her knickers and Tonks shivered, arching up. His finger dipped lower, brushing over damp cotton, and Snape sucked in a breath.

“You’re wet,” he hissed, and before Tonks could blink he had removed her knickers and flung them over his shoulders, leaving her open to him. Snape’s hands settled on her upper thighs, his thumbs rubbing in agonizingly slow circles, moving closer and closer and…

Tonks arched. “Oh!” she gasped. Snape’s finger was barely stroking over slicked, heated flesh, teasing her, and then his thumb brushed against her clit, and Tonks moaned deep and low, pressing against his thumb.

“Patience,” he murmured, and Tonks shot him a disgruntled look, and then his thumb was pressing harder as his finger dipped lower and slipped inside her body. Tonks gasped louder, fists clenching the sheets, and Snape’s thumb began to move faster, press harder, and then there was another finger sliding past the sensitive folds and into the tight heat.

“Don’t be quiet,” Snape grunted. Tonks moaned when he crooked his fingers _just there_ , the ache building, his thumb moving faster, harder, his fingers moving in and out. The smell of sweat and sex filled the room, and she was so close, _so_ close, she was almost there…

Snape suddenly bent his head awkwardly and inhaled her scent, and then she was coming. Tonks cried out once, twice, as the spasms racked her body, her back arching, and he wouldn’t stop rubbing, wouldn’t stop thrusting, and the sensations were overwhelming her, it was too much.

Gasping, Tonks was Snape’s hand and pulled him away. “Stop,” she choked out, shaking. “Too much…Oh God…”

Snape sat back, cheeks flushed and breathing erratically. His hands were clenched against the legs of his trousers and Tonks could make out a rather large bulge straining along the zipper. As Tonks’s body slowly recovered from one of the best orgasms she’d had in a long, long time, she said, “Take off your trousers and pants and lie down.”

Nostrils flaring, Snape nodded and began to undress. Tonks watched in fascination as this man she hated ( _hated?_ ) revealed himself to her. He was pale and skinny, with sparse black hairs dotting his chest and arms. The trail of hair leading down to his impressive erection was thick and dark, though, and Tonks felt a jolt of desire shiver down her spine.

Shirt still on, Snape moved back to the bed and lay down next to Tonks. His erection bounced against his belly, and Tonks smiled when his cock twitched as she ran a finger lightly down the length of the shaft. Her smile grew when Snape let out a muffled groan.

Straddling his hips, Tonks hovered above him on her knees and leered down at him. She took his cock in her hands and stroked the length, her eyes closing shut at his gasps and moans. With practiced eased she lowered herself down onto his shaft, pulling him into her, stretching her, filling her. Tonks exhaled loudly as he filled her completely, and she threw her head back as she rotated her hips.

Snape moaned loudly and gripped her hips, sliding his hands onto her buttocks and squeezing the thick flesh. Tonks always liked giving herself a bigger bottom than most women. It made her feel virile and sexy.

Leaning forward, Tonks rested her hands on either side of Snape’s shoulders and ground down again. Snape squeezed her arse and she suddenly raised her hips and lowered them quickly several times.

Snape muttered “Fuck” and thrust up when she came down, and soon their bodies were moving together, the erotic sound of skin meeting skin, and slick slide of his cock pushing in and out. Tonks leaned forward, shuddering as Snape’s deft fingers found her clit, and kissed him hard, sliding her tongue against his and sucking his bottom lip into her mouth.

With a cry, Snape thrust up and his body shook as his orgasm overpowered him, though his fingers never stopped teasing her clit, and soon Tonks’s body was wracked with pleasure as they both fell over the edge together.

It took Tonks several minutes of heavy breathing before she could even get her bearings, and when she did, she realized she was still laid sprawled on top of Snape’s body, his softening cock still inside her. Sighing in satisfaction, she rolled off of him and flopped down on the bed. She was sticky and sore and completely sated.

Beside her Snape remained silent as his breathing slowed and eventually became even. Tonks was content to remain in bed, enjoying the afterglow of really good sex, but she knew it could not last.

Snape rolled onto his side, facing Tonks, and she mimicked his actions. They watched each other for a while; it could have been minutes or hours, Tonks wasn’t sure, but she could tell he was thinking rapidly.

Finally, he said, “Why did they send you?”

“I was their only option at the moment.” Tonks looked down and began to fuss with the hem of the bedsheet. She’d suddenly become acutely aware of her nakedness. “I could do the potions, I knew you, and I could infiltrate seamlessly.”

The lines around Snape’s mouth deepened. “Did they send you here to kill me?”

“No,” Tonks said immediately. “No. Just—to spy. On you, the Death Eaters, You-Know-Who. My aunt. Just to spy and gather information.”

“What changed?”

He had said it so easily, so simply, but behind the disdain Tonks thought she heard something in his voice. Something that could have been hope if it’d been any other man.

“I learned the truth,” she whispered. Her throat felt thick and she coughed to clear it. “You’re not a nice man, nor a good one.”

Snape’s lips turned up a little. “I should hope not.”

Tonks smiled sadly and then reached her hand out and stroked his cheek. Snape looked stunned for a moment but did not pull away.

“You want to ask me something,” he said astutely.

Pulling back, Tonks exhaled and nodded. Snape gestured for her to continue.

She bit her lip and said, “I need to know what you know about Horcruxes, about the Death Eaters, about You-Know-Who and his headquarters. I need to know everything.”

Snape rubbed his hand along his lip line, his brow furrowed. At last he began to speak.

Two weeks later, Voldemort was dead.

* * *

> “ _Fireworks still continue to fire off around the country as the Wizarding world celebrates the one year anniversary of the defeat of You-Know-Who and his followers, the Death Eaters! Although there had been several reports in the Muggle news about these events taking place, the Ministry of Magic has been surprisingly lenient and thus far, no arrests have been made._
> 
> _“In a statement released by the Ministry just a few hours ago, Minister for Magic Arthur Weasley has confirmed that Harry Potter, the Man Who Lived Again, has agreed to attend the celebratory ball tomorrow night, on the condition that no reporters be allowed to attend—_ ”

“You’re really going?” Tonks asked, surprised.

Harry’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. Tonks suspected it wouldn’t reach his eyes for a while yet. “Yeah,” he said. “Didn’t want to, but Hermione got all logical on me and somehow talked me into going.” He rolled his eyes affectionately. “As long as no one talks to me about…that night. Well, then, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Tonks nodded in understanding and then stood to take her empty tea mug to the kitchen sink. The Burrow was as loud as ever, but Harry could quiet a room with ease nowadays, and people didn’t act too exuberant around him much of late. Tonks wasn’t sure if Harry wanted that or not, but he seemed to appreciate the calm nonetheless.

She set about washing her mug the old-fashioned Muggle way, enjoying the peace of the kitchen, when Harry suddenly blurted, “The trials start next week.”

Tonks grimaced a little and somehow managed to completely shatter the mug. “Yeah, I read that in the _Prophet_ ,” she said, tapping her wand against the shards of ceramic and muttering a Repairing Spell. “You really going to them all?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly. It had been a common argument between Harry and pretty much everyone else about his participation in the trials of the remaining Death Eaters who had survived Voldemort’s defeat.

Tonks pursed her lips to keep from giving her own opinion and instead chose to stare down at the misshapen mug in her hand. The painted-on smiley face was now distorted and its eyes were staring up at her imploringly. With a grimace, Tonks submerged the mug in the water and quickly walked away.

“What about tonight?” she asked, changing the subject. “Planning on going to the unofficial celebrations tonight?”

Harry made a face. “Likely not,” he said. He then smiled. “I think Ron and Hermione and the lot are throwing me a birthday party, though. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Tonks smirked and feigned boredom. “Not a clue, love,” she lied, smiling sweetly.

Harry rolled his eyes and stood from the table. “Well, I’m sure you’re invited, so I’ll probably see you, then. ‘Bye, Tonks.”

“’Bye, Harry.” Tonks watched him walk out of the kitchen, the smile fading from her face. He was doing better, she knew that, but Harry was still very much a damaged man. He’d managed to kill Voldemort, losing several friends and love ones along the way, and he was still recovering. Tonks thought it was boding well, though, that his friends felt he was up for celebrating his birthday. She’d figured Harry wouldn’t have been up to any parties, considering that Voldemort was vanquished on the same day as Harry’s birthday.

He was getting better, she thought, and that was all that mattered.

Remus suddenly strode into the kitchen, looking a man on a mission, and Tonks pulled herself back to reality.

“Wotcher,” she said brightly, and Remus smiled distractedly at her.

“Hello, Tonks,” he said as he began preparing a pot for tea. “I ran into Harry on the stairs. You didn’t tell him about the party, did you?”

“No,” she yelped, indignant. “He figured it out on his own, and I didn’t say anything!”

Remus chuckled and sat down across from her at the table. “I believe you, don’t worry.” He propped his chin on his hand and proceeded to stare at her.

“What?” she said, withering under his gaze.

He was silent for a moment before replying, “There was a report that came in a few days ago. Snape was spotted near Middlesbrough. We believe he’s hiding in the forests in the north, though we can’t be sure.”

Tonks raised her eyebrows. “Middlesbrough? He’s not trying very hard to hide, is he? That has a pretty large wizarding population.”

Remus gave a half-shrug. The whistle on the teapot began to scream and Remus rose quickly to set about preparing his tea. “Want any?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Once he was finished adding spoonfuls of sugar, Remus came back over to the table and sat down again. Nursing his tea, he said, “That’s the funny thing. He wasn’t spotted in the wizarding areas. He was seen at a Muggle sporting event.”

Tonks snorted loudly. “That’s—that’s too funny for words,” she gasped.

Remus pursed his lips. “Have you been in contact with him at all?”

Tonks abruptly stopped laughing. “Of course not,” she said sharply. “I haven’t seen him in over a year.”

He nodded, silent and contemplative, then said, “He’s been cleared by the Wizengamot.”

If Tonks had been drinking tea she’d have choked. “What?” she spluttered. “Does Harry know about this?”

Remus gave her a look. “I think we’ll wait until his birthday’s over. The news hasn’t been made public yet.” He took a sip of his tea and then rubbed his stubbly jaw, brushing his hair out of his eyes. It was nearly long enough to pull into a ponytail now. “Someone needs to tell Snape. Let him know he doesn’t have to hide anymore.”

“Well don’t look at me,” Tonks said.

“You have a rapport with him,” Remus replied easily.

Tonks snorted and crossed her arms. “I slept with the man, I didn’t become his best friend.”

Remus coughed. “Hrm,” he said, shifting in his seat, and if Tonks didn’t know any better, she thought he looked a bit embarrassed. “Be that as it may…” He trailed off and stared into the bottom of his cup for several minutes.

“There’s an owl upstairs waiting for you,” he said at last. “Rather mean looking, surly and such. You should go see what it wants.”

Frowning and not a little confused, Tonks rose from his seat and exited the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time. She was as loud as she wanted to be, since Mrs Black’s portrait had finally been eviscerated by Harry in a moment of rage, and by the time she reached her bedroom on the third floor landing, she was out of breath.

Sure enough, a beady-eyed screech owl was perched imperiously on her dresser. Upon seeing her, it squawked and stuck out his foot; attached was a small scroll and a brass key. She removed the items and with an indignant ruffle of its feathers, the owl flew right out her window.

Frowning, Tonks unfurled the parchment, and her stomach dropped down around her knees. She’d know that scrawl anywhere.

> _Tap your wand to the key and incant “Portus”_

Tonks realized she’d been clenching the key in her hand. Opening her palm, she stared down at the aged key, her mind whirling.

_“Someone needs to tell Snape. Let him know he doesn’t have to hide anymore.”_

Tonks removed her wand from her robes pocket and gently place the tip against the key. “ _Portus_ ,” she whispered. Her navel jerked once and the world spun around her as she whirled away from Grimmauld Place and closer to the unknown.

Tonks landed with a thump on soft earth, and of course stumbled forward onto her knees with a grunt. She raised her head slowly and took in her surroundings. Trees surrounded her, tall and somewhat menacing. She’d ended up in a small clearing, and in front of her stood the most un-Snape-like cottage she’d ever seen. It might have been the picket fence, she wasn’t sure.

“Are you going to stand there all day staring like a buffoon?” drawled a voice directly behind her. Tonks shot around and came face to face with Severus Snape.

“Keep your mouth open like that and a bird might mistake it for a nest.” He smirked and crossed his arms. Tonks, showing her maturity at its fullest, stuck her tongue out and then turned back towards the house.

“Nice place,” she said, stepping closer to the edge of the property. “I like what you’ve done with it. The fence is a nice touch, very feminine. It’s you.”

She stopped and grinned impishly back at him from over her shoulder. He scowled and stepped up beside her.

“It belonged to a Mrs Agnes Finniwig before she passed,” he said shortly. “I kept the fence because it helps keep creatures and small children out of my yard, and thus out of my potions.” He smiled nastily.

“How charming,” Tonks quipped. “Are there floral patterns on the inside?”

“Not anymore,” he snapped. He gripped her elbow lightly and said, “Here, get inside, before you frighten away all the animals with that atrocious hair.”

Tonks allowed him to lead them through the ridiculous white-washed gate, past the white-washed front door (with scalloped trim), and into the white kitchen located directly off the main hall.

“Sit,” he grunted, all but pushing her into a white-washed chair. Tonks was beginning to see a pattern.

“Are you always so courteous to your guests?” she asked sweetly. Snape glowered at her from the sink where he was filling a pot with water.

“Are you always so annoying?” he returned, and sat the pot on top of what was possibly the world’s oldest stove. He even had to light a fire to get it going. The scene was so domestic she almost laughed. Almost. She already encountered enough life threatening situations as an Auror.

The room descended into an awkward silence, as Snape hovered over the stove and Tonks took in the stripped walls, bright windows, and lace curtains. It all must be killing Snape. That amused her.

She jumped when the whistle shrieked on the pot and Snape set about preparing the tea. After draining the leaves, he turned and thrust the mug in front of her. “Here,” he grunted. “I don’t have any sugar, not that you need it anyway, but I have honey. So you can have that. If you want.”

Tonks raised an eyebrow at Snape’s behavior and watched him discretely as he prepared his own cup of tea. “Honey would be fine,” she said at last. Snape remained silent as he finished making his tea. He walked back over to the table and sat opposite from Tonks, and then slid a pot of honey over to her.

She thanked him and then added about a spoonful of honey into her cup. Snape shifted in his seat several times, seeming more interested in staring at his tea than drinking it, and Tonks just kept drinking.

Snape cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he told his cup.

Tonks bit her lip and took another swig of the bitter tea to stall for time. Finally, she said, “Why did you contact me?”

Snape frowned. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Oh please,” scoffed Tonks. “Like you’ve ever done something without knowing why.”

Snape’s dark eyes snapped to hers, but when he didn’t say anything, Tonks continued, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll turn you in?”

Folding his arms over his chest, Snape sat back and glowered at her. “You haven’t yet,” he said at last. “Nor would you.”

“You know me that well, then?” snapped Tonks.

“Yes.”

Tonks blinked and leaned back. “Oh,” she said inanely, and chewed on her lower lip. “Er, listen…you’re right. You don’t have to worry about me turning you in because…well, because you’ve been cleared. The Ministry’s not after you anymore.”

Snape stared at her with blank eyes before nodding once. His lips twitched in the corners and a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.

“That is…unexpected news,” he said. He looked away for a few moments, then turned back to her. “This house is hideous, isn’t it?”

“I—what?” Tonks shook her head at the sudden change in subject. “Er, yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

Snape took a drink of his tea. “I’ve been here for a few months, but I’ve not been able to do anything decent with it. I suppose…it could use some help. Some of your help. If you’re interested.”

Tonks hastily raised her near empty mug to her face to hide her smile. “It definitely needs some work.” She paused and looked up at him.

“You’re not a nice man,” she observed, staring into his eyes.

Snape’s lip curled. “I should hope not.”

Cocking her head, she asked, “Know what it’s like in the spring?”

“I’m sure the flowers bloom, animals rut, and the sky is always blue. Rather revolting.”

Tonks smiled again around the brim of her cup. “That sounds lovely.” She sighed and stared out a window overlooking a small pond she’d missed earlier.

Snape nodded once and stood to get more tea. Outside the moon began to rise.

_The End_


End file.
